Outsider of the Deep Desert
by The Darbwire
Summary: Life of a young Fremen woman. Please R & R
1. Chapter 1

Glaring around her, the desert wind whipping what little showing of her face, Butok gazed ever forward hoping to reach her sietch before the morning sun rose. She felt the gentle sway of the giant sandworm beneath her feet. Shai'Hulud would get her there under the cover of darkness. Her stay in Arrakeen, learning the weirding way from her Bene Gesserit counselor, the Shadout Nefertina, had been too long.  
  
[i] She knows much to be of little use to the Sisters. [/i]  
  
If ever the Sisterhood were to find her, a simple Fremen girl, to be learning the ways of the Truthsayers of the Emperor himself, she would indeed be granted the opportunity of a lifetime - a lifetime of one condemned to damnation. It was forbidden for outsiders to learn something so sacred. But she had always been a true rebel, one of the few women able to ride Shai'Hulud with such ease. And in her rebelliousness, she had sought out the Baron's own Shadout, and ex-Bene Gesserit one might say, to learn that which was so sacred to the Bene Gesserit - their weirding way and their Voice. She had passed the tests, proving once and for all that she was not an animal. She had survived the Gom-Jabbar. All she had left now was to partake of the Water of Life. A shudder passed over her small stature.  
  
She knew, however, her adeptness in the Bene Gesserit ways, even for being so old. She had never known she had shown the talent until her thirteenth year. A sigh escaped her. That had been 4 years ago when she had officially become a woman. But so late was her womanhood that no man had offered to bond his water with hers. Her heart had been angered by this lack of proposal. Butok was a dependable Fremen woman, though still so young. Inwardly she cursed the cowering men of her sietch and passed the rest of her journey in meditation.  
  
**************  
  
She reached the sietch late in the night, knowing her leader would most likely punish her for being an abrasion to his regulations on the women. She had left her worm approximately fifteen kilometers from the sietch opening. The waiting of its passing allowed her time to say her prayer of thanks and begin her drag-step-hop walk back to her home.  
  
Entering, quietly, her hand on her crystal-like dagger made from the tooth of a sandworm, she probed around looking for a light to shake. Finding one, she shook it and glanced up, quite surprised to see all the tribe leaders looking directly at her. At the scowls on her elders' faces, she looked to the sandy stone ground.  
  
"I'm rather sorry I arrived so late."  
  
Her secondary tribe leader (co-leader I so to speak), Matsoot, looked into her eyes, his own blazing.  
  
"You should be! We specifically told you never to leave a sietch again without permission. We let you go to visit friends, sending a message of your arrival, and we get one back saying you've not been there for 3 days!!"  
  
Matsoot took a step towards her, his face contorted with rage.  
  
"I took you in as a child and I get no respect from you ever since then? What possesses you child?! What, in the name of the future to come, compels you to be so obstinate - so insolent?!?!"  
  
She sighed, keeping her eyes, and removing her hand from her dagger. "I'm sorry Soo." Her voice grew softer now. "The desert seemed to call to me."  
  
Her excuses were not waving the looks on the faces of the elders  
  
"Soo, you must realize that," she rushed on. "It compelled me like nothing has ever before. I can't explain it! The desert called to me, pleaded with me. It's my only way to get away from the entirety of this place!"  
  
Her leader, Katuwain, looked at her feeling slight more compassion than her adoptive father. The girl was different. She wasn't even fully Fremen. She was an anomaly among the people. Her father had been an outsider, but her mother a true Fremen. He had known her mother, had been close with her, and when she died, he adopted Butok because she had been discarded by her people.  
  
He spoke to her.  
  
"Butok."  
  
The young Fremen woman looked at him, stepping forward with her head held high.  
  
Katuwain spoke again. "Come here girl." She stepped forward. "You are a woman and have been for nigh four years now. Act like one. You're seventeen, for God's sake. Get a grip on yourself; start acting your age. I will not tolerate anymore of this. You have one final blow to deliver and I am going to tell you now, the punishment will be beyond corporal." She stopped and sighed. He was close to this girl. She was different and he did not entirely mind that, but for sake of the sietch he had to make her behave. "Now girl, remove your stillsuit's cap."  
  
A look of shock over came her. He wanted to see her hair. She opened her mouth. "Katu.please," she whispered. His look told her he would not change his mind. Slowly, she pulled of the stillsuit's cap, revealing long, light reddish locks spattered with the deep brown of an Arrakeen dye.  
  
The leader shook his head. "You cannot hide your differences girl. What will you do with your eyes, eh?"  
  
Butok blinked. Her eyes weren't blue-within-blue: they were a green-within- green. 


	2. Chapter 2

All of Butok's feelings and emotions were suddenly chilled. Her hair color had always been something of a touchy subject as well as her eye color. She was also rather hurt that her leader would dare touch on something she was so sensitive about. Sighing, she knew it had been what was coming.  
  
Katuwain looked at her with somewhat a paternal look in his blue-within- blue eyes.  
  
"Remember, child, do not hide yourself. Hide only in the desert. Be proud of your heritage."  
  
With that, she knew her presence was no longer required. Turning and walking to her yali, a small tear made its way down her tanned face. Yet another subtle sign of her difference; she gave water from her eyes - she cried. No, she was not Fremen. She was something more - something passionate.  
  
Entering her own private quarters, she was surprised to see Yami - her closest friend - Yami's baby, and her friend's elder brother, Zenusko. The first thing to catch her attention about them was their blue eyes. Yami's baby wouldn't have them until he was nearly twelve years. The nezhoni scarf around Yami wore also caught her attention. Though it was a disgrace, she envied it. Her friend wore the damned piece of clothe, even out of stillsuit, just to brag of her new son.  
  
Zenusko, quickly noting the angst upon Butok's face, quickly asked, "Subakh al Kuhar?"  
  
Though she didn't mean it, Butok gave the traditional reply.  
  
"Subakh un Nar."  
  
The young man shook his head.  
  
"Tok, you shouldn't lie." He tossed her a portygal to eat. "It's never becoming on a Fremen woman."  
  
Butok scowled. "Well, I'm not exactly what you would call Fremen, am I?" Catching the tangy fruit, she quickly peeled it and took a bite.  
  
Yami intervened before more words were said. "Now, now, you two. Neither of you should start at each other so soon. My son could get uncomfortable.  
  
Butok exploded, her nerves shot.  
  
"I'm tired of hearing of your son, Yami! If he's so uncomfortable here, take him back to your own yali!" She immediately regretted saying those words.  
  
The new mother stood. "Very well; I shall go."  
  
Picking up her son, she left Butok's quarters and went to her own. Only Zenusko remained.  
  
"Well," he ventured after a brief pause, "that went over rather well."  
  
The young woman slumped against the stone wall sighing and finishing off the portygul.  
  
"I never meant a word I said. The words seemed to come from my mouth without my control. I must learn to think before I speak."  
  
The young man scooted across the floor now sitting next to her.  
  
"Tell me what is bothering you, Tok. You've been troubles of late. You seem to wander when you please; you do not have to prove yourself. You are a worthwhile sandrider. Everyone from here to the Great Bled knows this for a fact. What are you trying to get across?"  
  
Butok stood, removing her crysknife and kindjal from her waist, placing them both in a depression in the wall. She was careful to make sure she did not slip and unsheathe the crysknife. Once unsheathed, she could not sheath it until it drew blood. It was the way.  
  
"Nusko, I was only going for an outing. And don't worry; I changed Makers every other day."  
  
Her companion raised an eyebrow.  
  
"If it was only an outing, why bring both your 'knife and 'jal, eh?" He waited for a response. "You know, Tok, word has been passed that you have been seen in Arrakeen with the Baron's Shadout. They suspect you of giving the Harkonnens information of many of the Fremen matters."  
  
In a flash, Tok had grabbed her kindjal, unsheathed it and had it pressed to Nusko's throat. The Fremen man was in no position to escape.  
  
"How dare you insult me with the Harkonnen name is my presence! And how dare you suggest that I may be working for the bastards!" She pressed the knife harder against his throat.  
  
"Kull wahad woman," he managed to gasp out. "Where did you learn that? Certainly not from Soo!"  
  
Glaring, she let him go. "I don't know what you are talking about." Simply said, she turned her back beginning to remove her stillsuit.  
  
Nusko shook his head. "Women - especially you - should not be given a weapon."  
  
"I heard that," she called back at him.  
  
Shaking his head still, he turned from her while she was undressing, but glanced back for a moment, taking in her soft curves. She was not like the other Fremen women. Yes, they were all extremely lithe, tough even, having lived in the desert, but they were also taught their places (and knew) their places. Though Butok had been taught her place on many an occasion, she never had let the teaching take effect on her. She didn't care for placement; she was as wild as maker and as untamed as the desert hawk of Arrakis. And her looks.. No Fremen - even half-breed ones - had red hair and green eyes. Some called her a demon, an evil spirit, even though she was quite human. Startled by a tap on his shoulder, Nusko turned, meeting Tok's eyes.  
  
Tok looked back, startled also. Something was different about Nusko. His look was strange. Her stomach bottomed; she knew that look. She had seen other men cast it at women. Quickly, she took a step back, unsure of how to react.  
  
"Nusko," she questioned awkwardly.  
  
Nusko shook his head, startled once more. Blushing, he made an excuse to leave.  
  
"I am going to retire now. Perhaps you should do the same. I have a hunch that tomorrow night will take the whole sietch to the Harbanya Ridge for a gathering. The Beast arrives back in Arrakeen tomorrow to seek out slaves to transport back to Giedi Prime."  
  
With all said, he turned, leaving Tok in her yali.  
  
Frowning, she took Nusko's advice, and retired. As she lay down, however, she realized she was quite awake. A sigh escaped her. She needed sleep. Getting up again, she shook out her glow globe then went back to bed. Frustratedly, she turned around in the sheets, the semi-darkness casting odd shadows all about her. Tossing before sweet slumber fell upon her, one question kept flitting through her mind: why had Nusko looked at her in that way?  
  
**********************  
  
Night came again, like all night do. Butok woke to find most of her important items, namely her desert traveling gear, already in place. Shuddering, she realized that someone had been in her room without her realizing it.  
  
"I'm a sorry excuse for a Bene Gesserit," she muttered angrily.  
  
Before getting into her gear, however, she paid a visit to Nusko and Yami.  
  
"Yami," she asked tentively, before entering her friend's quarters. "Nusko?"  
  
Entering without invitation, she peered around not once spotting Yami or her man-child. Nusko was gone as well. And where was Yami's husband?  
  
"A whole four people missing from a sietch no bigger than my thumb and I cannot find them?!"  
  
Suddenly, her senses piqued. Someone was approaching the room, fixing to broach the doorway. Preparing herself for a threat, she took on a subtle stance. "Nusko!" she cried when her friend entered the room. Breathing a sigh of relief, she lowered her stance.  
  
Nusko looked at her upon his entering of Yami's yali.  
  
"You're not dressed for tonight's journey, little hawk. Hurry! Get dressed! It's nearly a twenty thumper journey from here to the Ridge.  
  
The "little hawk" shrugged shamelessly. "I'll be ready soon. Where is Yami?"  
  
"Yami has gone ahead in the first take. The second take left nearly half an hour ago. There are some of us who must remain behind to help those who fail to awake in time and take the third."  
  
It was her turn to blush. "All right, all right. I'm going."  
  
**********************  
  
The night air of the desert played upon Butok's face as she breathed in deeply through her the filter at her nose.  
  
Spice.  
  
It was stronger than ever now that she rode upon a make, Shai-Hulud. The smell meant more than just home; it was her life's dependency. Her blood was saturated with the spice-mélange so many in the universe craved. A thought flipped through her mind: if someone were to control the spice, they could control the entire universe. Confusedly, she shook her head. But that would mean being able to control the giant worm. Such a thing seemed rather preposterous to the young Fremen woman. However, Nefertina had mentioned a Kwisatz Haderach that would perhaps one day rule the entire universe. Her trainer's "Kwisatz Haderach" sounded so much like the Messiah in the prophecies of her people. Perhaps the two weren't so different; perhaps they were the same. And if they were the same, the Shadout's ultimate being would be the undeniable Emperor of the Known Universe, no matter who sat upon the throne at the time. All this because the one that controls the spice not only controls Arrakis, but the universe as well.  
  
Without warning, Zenusko interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"You frighten me Tok. You body is here riding the worm with me, but your mind is not."  
  
Biting her tongue, she looked out over the desert sands. In the distance, Harbanya Ridge rose like a blundering behemoth in the night. To her right and left rode more Fremen upon two other makers. Quietly, she breathed in deeply of the air around here, comforted that their journey had gone well thus far. Soon they would be there for the gathering.  
  
**********************  
  
Unbeknownst to the travelers below, a patrol 'thopter flew high above and behind them, Harkkonnen by the House's crest in the right wing. An evil grin played upon the face of the pilot.  
  
"Well, well. What have we here?"  
  
Quickly, he grabbed a transmitter, speaking into hurriedly and with excitement.  
  
"Base control, this is Delta-H oh-nine. Do you come in?"  
  
The typical reply was issued. The pilot continued.  
  
"I've locked onto a group of possible recruits. Send back-up and vehicle as soon as possible. We shouldn't let such an opportunity slip past our na- Baron Rabban." Quickly, he gave the coordinates. "Make haste, men. Over and out."  
  
The man knew he would be commended for his efforts to help the enslavement process and his grin grew even larger.  
  
**********************  
  
Down below, riding on the giant sandworm, Tok's breath caught in her throat, a feeling of impending danger making itself present to her. Out of fearful instinct, she clutched Nusko's arm.  
  
"We've got to abandon the journey, Nusko. Now. Something terribly wrong." The girl's eyes were wide with some sort of terror, her hand gripped tightly around the hilt of her crysknife.  
  
Nusko looked down at her, puzzle.  
  
"I'm not going to call off this journey so close to our destination just because you get scared."  
  
Her breathing quickened, coming in now ragged and fearful - fearful for blood not yet shed.  
  
"I'm not scared for my own life, man! I'm scared for the lives of everyone here!" Her grip tightened around his arm. Giving a sharp pull, she turned him towards her, forcing him to look directly into her eyes.  
  
Fear swept over the man like a sand tide as he looked into her eyes. She knew something was wrong, dreadfully wrong, but the elders had promised their journey to be quite safe. Before he realized what he was doing, he gave into her fear. His signal to end the journey, however, came a moment too late, interrupted by the monotone and red arc of a lasgun fired.  
  
The firing blasted into the sand in front of them causing all three worms to dive for the disturbance. Many, caught off guard, fell from the beasts, instantly bruised and battered. Tok and Nusko were among the many.  
  
Tok lay on her side in the sands, trying her hardest to shove away from the receding sandworms, not wishing to be caught in their wake. Feeling for the moment safe, she rose, calling out for Nusko. A hand appeared from the ground as she called, drawing her attention. Grabbing it quickly, she pulled the owner of the arm out, after waiting for the hand to clasp her arm back. A moment later Nusko appeared. A cry of joy escaped her as she watched her friend rise from the sand before her, carelessly losing her filter and undoing mouthpiece in the process. Nusko had lost his beneath the sand after his fall. Nearly crying, she threw her arms around the half- risen man, planting a smothering kiss firmly on his lips. Quickly, she pulled away, a beam from a lasgun landing too close to her feet for comfort. No longer did the relaxing smell of spice fill the air, but the pungent scent of burnt ozone, sand and some flesh replaced it. The two ran in the Fremen way (though what use was it now) to a dune covering not but several meters away. The firing seemed to increase with the landing of what seemed to be a carryall, void of any harvesters. Gripping her crysknife fiercely, she turned to Nusko here eyes blazing as well as his.  
  
"We were too late, Tok," he announced, yelling loudly over the roar of the fight.  
  
Without warning, several Harkonnen troops made their way quickly down the dune, firing their deadly weapons. Many of the beams did not succeed in bringing down the careful Fremen. But Fremen were Fremen and her people must be justified. Nusko, in a fir of pure rage, began forward to the ever- growing number of attackers. Tok grabbed his arm quickly, holding him back for a moment.  
  
"Their weapons are set to 'stun.' They're not trying to kill our people, they're just trying to -" Tok was cut off smartly as a beam of laser burned away the sand next to her. "Fool!" she cried, drawing her 'knife. With lightning-like reflexes and agility, she managed to cross to her assailant and ram her knife through her throat. Blood spurted onto her face as she twisted her 'knife and yanked it out, completely severing her opponent's jugular. Her odd green eyes flashed brightly and fiercer now as her wilder instinct overcame here. Nusko joined her a moment later and pressed against her back to help her fend off the evil troops. The two fought that way for what seemed hours, killing many of the Harkonnens in the process. Sadly, however, Nusko paid eternal homage to the precise beam of a lasgun.  
  
Tok felt her friend slip down to the ground, moving no more. Deftly, she turned, taking in the whole scene instantaneously. Fury swept over her uncontrollably as she recognized the killer. It was the Beast himself. Angrily, she yelled out his name, causing the na-Baron apparent to turn to her. She raised her 'knife for the attack, yelling, "This night your fight is with me! I will take your life's water from you on these very sands!" With the same movements as before, she charged Rabban. The Bene Gesserit training she received played it's part well that night; she seemed to have fought him for only seconds before having him knocked down to the sands.  
  
Straddling him and pinning him down, she held the sacred crysknife to the gluttoned throat of her enemy, whispering into his ear before the final blow, "May you die slowly and the birds eat your flesh before you give up your soul."  
  
Before the deadly last blow was delivered, though, a searing pain shot through here chest, causing her to drop her 'knife. The smell of burnt flesh reached her before she looked down and the image did. A faithful trooper to the Baron and his nephew had found his mark. Rabban shoved here away, leaving her curled on her side in the sands of the desert. She clutched at the wound, trying to numb the nerve-endings and forget the pain that now resided within her. From habit, as well as for comfort, she began to recite a very old lesson - the Litany Against Fear.  
  
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear - " her voice began to trail off. " - pass over me - it has gone past - inner eye - nothing - I will - remain." With the last word uttered, here eyes closed.  
  
For many years to come after this, she would never see her beloved Dune again. 


End file.
